I wanted my mom’s last name on my jersey and on the nameplate above my cubby, something that felt like mine for the first time. I wanted a new number too—anything but Aarni Lankinen’s. I didn’t care what it was, only that it wasn’t his. Cam wore 32, and I wanted to match him, to line up beside him in more ways than one, because yes, this was who I was now. I wasn’t hiding anymore. I hadn't said the L-word yet; it didn't seem right when Aarni was still the picture, and when my mom had so much to tell me. But he must know, because he told me he loved me every chance he got.
The press releases were going out in two days, and for the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt at peace. It helped that the hardest part was already done. I’d stood in front of the team after yesterday’s win against Buffalo, still buzzing from my first goal as a Railer, and told them everything. About my name. About who I loved. About who I was. No hiding, no half-truths. Just me, standing there, waiting for the fallout—and finding none.
“Jari,” my father—no, Aarni Lankinen—said, his voice already loud, already crowding the space, as if shouting could force me back into place. He wasn’t my father. He was nothing to me. “Now listen here, boy, you need to send me money now. I’ve paid out for your goddamn mother for twenty years and?—”
“Turns out, Aarni,” I said quietly, cutting him off before he could build momentum, “that you used money my mom inherited, and stole the rest from me under false pretenses.Hermoney.Mymoney. I understand from various sources that you are bankrupt and close to losing everything.” Sources being my new soon-to-be stepfather, Mikko.
There was a sharp sound on the line, breath dragged in hard, anger flaring hot and sudden. “That’s a lie,” he snapped.
“No,” I said. Calm. Certain. “It isn’t.”
“You ungrateful piece of shit,” he roared, rage spilling all over his words. “You wouldn’t be anywhere without me. I pushed you, molded you, I fucking made you halfway good enough to earn me money?—”
“Stop,” I said, still calm, still steady, talking straight over him. I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t need to. “I don’t want to see you again, Aarni. I don’t want tohearfrom you again.” I paused, let the silence stretch, felt it settle into something final. “I will be here living with my boyfriend, with a career I might learn to love, as settled as a line that finally clicks. In spite of you and not because of you. I owe you nothing,” I said. “Not my career. Not my name. Not my life.”
His breathing was harsh. “You miserable little?—”
“You are nothing,” I said, and ended the call.
There was silence, Cam had stopped the movie, and he pulled me close, until I was on his lap, straddling him, burying my face in his neck.
“Jari?” he asked, worried.
I lifted my head and kissed him gently. “I love you.”
He grinned and deepened the kiss until we were both hard and needy.
“Sweetheart? I love you too.”
Epilogue
CAM
Finally.
Finally, I was at the airport about to pick up my man.
Jari was free from hockey for a whole week while the league held its All-Star weekend, and the Railers enjoyed a bye week. I was about to hold my lover in my arms, kiss him all over, and show him the joy of Florida and spring training.
Finally.
I picked him out of the crowds disembarking his flight into St. Pete-Clearwater from Harrisburg International. Back in Pennsylvania, it was snowing. Here in the Sunshine State, it was seventy-two degrees and sunny. I couldn’t wait any longer. As soon as our eyes met, we made a dash for each other. He was out now. Fully and openly out of the closet. So, I swooped down on him like a hawk to plaster my mouth over his. Two weeks felt like a long time without Jari.
“I missed you so much,” I whispered over his lips before stealing another kiss. This one a bit less frantic.
“I missed you, too,” he replied, giving my sides a rub before we broke apart. He hefted his carry-on higher on his shoulder.
“You need to get your luggage?” I asked, taking his hand in mine.
“Nope. I only brought a few things. I plan on being naked a lot.”
My dick liked the sound of that. “Okay, we need to hurry home.” With a laugh that made people turn to look at us, we bolted outside.
Jari hit the sidewalk then paused. “Oh my god, it is so humid,” he gasped.
“This is nothing. Come down here in August.” I tugged him to my car in short-term parking, mouth going a mile a minute as I filled him in on the subtropical climate down here. “Most of the guys share a place, and that’s cool and all, but I was never big on roommates. Unless they’re sexy Finnish hockey players.”
“Okay, I was starting to get worried that I was being politely told I had to move out after I just moved my stuff into the Biltmore Estate.”
